>Something’s so horribly missing..
its just this gaping void.. you cant seem to fill it, whatever you do..
i am as clueless about whats missing as i am about what i seek to fill that gap with…

Writer’s Block keeps visiting again and again.. Its as if he’s this dreaded ghost you wish stopped haunting you.. this unwanted guest who keeps knocking at every oppurtunity, you dont want to let him in, yet he forces himself in, stays for dinner without invitation and refuses to go… He doesnt just stem your creativity, he simply destroys your ability to write and express. Lethargy/boredom/pervasive pointlessness/habitual hyperactivity etcetra are some of its other names..

There’s this surge of emotions- chaotic, distorted, formless and heavy- just no outlet to let go of them. Too many things locked up inside, so many irrelevant things released but..

Sharing secret joys and grief doesnt help.
it doesnt drive away guilt and loneliness.
it doesnt make you feel any lighter, any less troubled.
its just those things you let on when you cant take them anymore, but it doesnt help.
because you know saying things out aloud doesnt necessarily help matters ease, because you are not doing that to find solutions or attempting assauge a messy state of mind.

My horoscope for today says: “Nevertheless, your happiness may depend on your ability to let go of the paNevertheless, your happiness may depend on your ability to let go of the past.”
But what do i let go of??
i almost feel i dont have any claims over these memories.. theres nothing i own to let go of…
i am happy, i think. but i feel i am not..
maybe feelings are not such a good thing at all.. how can they be? if their sole purpose is to create conflicts in your mind for which you dont have time and any space…

its pointless to find the meaning of life.. but who the fuck knows wats life anyways?????
i dont know what my life is or wat it means to me or any one else?( i doubt if anyone would be so jobless as to make my life matter to them, except of course my immediate family which i have now come to realise doesn really really cares about me beyond my cynical imagination)

As this post falls deeper down into an abyss of nonsense, and i realise i’m just doing this in a futile attempt to find some meaning as to what could have gone so horribly wrong with me to make me such a loser of a person, i want to know why i think i am a loser.
is it because i am not a looker at all and neither a genius of any sort? god said no to me in both the departments– nor extreme good looks or extreme brilliance of mind with superscore of an IQ!!!
or is it just because i fail to see anything remotely special or different in myself? or is it just an incurable inferiority complex that i’ve been chronically suffering from??
(A self-critical and self-depreciating view of myself just doesnt sound as funny or cool as it does for others.)

Just staying busy doing work which you know will be anyways done irrespective of who’s doing it, but which somehow makes you feel as if you have been a part of something which you’d like to believe you’re an integral part of. At the end of the day, when i go to sleep do i feel i made a difference to anyone or myself, in which ever tiniest way possible or did i just add to the growing heap of meaningless hours, words and sighs spent??


A miracle in hold,
struggling to free,
from slippery hands
and a sceptic mind.

Is it in wait
of a better time?
Or a softer spirit
yielding to it?

Would you release
it for a joy you fear
you don’t dare dream?
Or rather smother
it to save unforeseen
desires from dying?

Let the miracle unfold
and change your life,
for better or worse,
than linger on chance
and watch wishes and hopes
wilt away before your eyes.

Free the puerile butterfly
into the unknown blues,
lest its lengthy confine
bring its untimely close.